


Unintentionally

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [73]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Cheating, Daddy Peter, M/M, Post Mpreg, Temporary Character Death, kid stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:50:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adultery, betrayal, the actions of two junkies and their rust-bucket of a car, destroyed the Alpha but not enough to kill him and lay his body down beside his dead son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Doom asked for a little fic where little Stiles walks in on his daddy cheating on his other daddy (sheriff and Peter everybody) with none other than his cousin Derek, and Stiles is so shocked and upset that he runs and gets in an accident that kills him which leaves both his daddies heartbroken. Let’s just say I fucked this story up because she didn’t say she wanted daddy kink!!!!! Seriously how was I supposed to know that if you don’t tell me that tiny detail? And I was sort of hey this idea could ne kinda good and then I find out I crashed and burned.   
> But anyway so my idea was that John and Peter have been married and together for over ten years and during this period of marriage they decided to have a baby which is of course Stiles they used a great deal of magical aide to get the baby that was both John and Peter and it was Peter who went through the whole pregnancy so they could have their little family and so of course some of that magic used to create Stiles has slipped into their baby boy. I also imagined that the Hale fire happened and everyone but Peter and his little family plus Derek didn’t die and so Derek moved in to live with his uncle and his mate John.

 

The shocked, heartbroken expression of little Stiles Stilinski-Hale face with the wide doe-like eyes and little bow-shaped mouth and a bleeding nose would become burned into the minds of his father and the young man who’d become like a big brother to Stiles during the past two years, while the two males untangled themselves from each other as well as the sheets that had become tangled around their legs and feet the little boy begins to shake from head to toe while little tears begin to appear from sad brown eyes. 

 

Derek Hale would never forget from that horrible Sunday afternoon was the complete look of devastation on his cousin’s little face or the how a stench of hopelessness and sorrow came from the little boy who had a bloody nose and a bruised cheek, and what John Stilinski could never forget was the look of devastation on his son’s bruised face he would also never forget how his little boy seemed to shrink before his very eyes or how his bright eyes seemed to dim.

 

John calls out to his son voice unsteady but the little boy wearing a graphic t-shirt stained with blood as was the bright-red overalls, but as if hearing his name was the key to cause the little boy Stiles Stilinski-Hale took off running. **** Stiles doesn’t pause not even long enough to hear his father’s feeble and desperate apologies or Derek’s demands for him to wait and just listen to whatever panicked excuse he or John could spew from kiss swollen lips.

 

Stiles the fruit of John’s and Peter’s love and devotion doesn’t even grant his father or cousin a single glance before running out of his parent’s bedroom nose still bleeding, and lower lips trembling while fat tears escaped from whiskey colored eyes that had already cried twice that day first with anger which quickly turned into tears of hurt; but these fresh tears were a combination of hurt, shame, and anger for not only had his father and cousin proved the mean things Jackson Whittemore had said to be true but it also proved Stiles wrong and stupid for defending his daddy, his Derek and his daddy made the punches Stiles got from standing up to Jackson valid and that made Stiles feel so very stupid. 

 

Stiles stumbles down the stairs while his name is called out over and over again, but he can’t stop even though he doesn’t know where he should go, Stiles doesn’t even pause when he stumbles and falls the last three steps as soon as he’s down he’s up because he needs to run to get away., Stiles stumbles out of the house where he’d been born and where he’d spent the seven years of his life growing up thinking and believing his daddies loved one another, he stumbles out of the house where he’d felt safe and loved cradling his hurt arm close to his chest while his crying grew more desperate.  ** **

 

Stiles is out of the house before Derek or John have even managed to pull their pants up, Stiles is on his bike and racing down up the street his little helmet left on the front-yard where he’d thrown it when returning home seeking comfort from his daddy who for once had a day off from work, with panic and dread in their hearts John and Derek hurry their bodies into their hastily discarded clothes and together they set out to find the child John and Peter had decided they wanted and for whom Peter had risked his own life and health for. 

 

Together Derek and John set off after the little boy in the vehicle John Stilinski’s chosen profession had provided him with, they were didn’t get far from the house when they came upon a sorrowful sight, John is barely able to stop and park his car before he’s out of the car and running towards the little body splayed out on the road.

 

`Stiles! ´ John screams while running towards his little boy who wasn’t moving, but it’s Derek who reaches the boy who’s customized captain America bike lay mangled at the side of the road, a bike the little boy had been given for his seventh birthday a bike that had almost turned Jackson Whittemore green with envy, the little shield bent on the middle of the road not too far from the little boy.

 

`No.´ Derek repeats that single word over and over again as his trembling hands hovered over the little boy who laid in an uncomfortable and broken position on the road, there wasn’t a lot of blood but the little boy but the little boy wasn’t breathing and there was no familiar hummingbird-like heartbeat for the werewolf to hear. 

 

`Not my son. No please God not my son.´ John cried as he dropped down on the ground, pulling his little boy into his arms, cradling the little body close, `Stiles, baby, please wake-up baby. Come on baby wake-up.´ 

 

`John, he’s – he’s not breathing.´ Derek says voice trembling and tears already beginning to fall from his eyes, his words cause the man whowascradling his little son close and crying like Derek had never seen the man do before.

 

`Come on baby-boy breathe, breathe for daddy.´ John sobbed against the top of his son bloodied head, `please don’t do this son.´ 

 

** ~*~ **

 

`Are you sure about this dude? ´ one of the junkies whispered to his meth head of a friend, both men standing in the hole they’d dig into the soft cold ground, the earth had been disturbed under safety of the night and in the faint light of candles lit around the gravesite of a little boy who’d died far too soon; a little boy who’d been laid down to rest without any form of justice the coward that had hit the boy riding his almost brand new bike hadn’t stayed to aid the little boy or done the honorable deed of handing himself to the proper authorities. 

 

`This is just crazy dude, digging up some kids corpse in the middle of the night.´ the twitchy young man said voice low and nervous and justifiably fearful for no sane man would dig up the corpse of the sheriff’s son, but then again these fools were hardly the type to think twice about celling their own sister if it provided them with another hit of whatever poison their bodies and minds had come to crave. 

 

Peter Hale can’t help but roll his eyes at the statement made while cupping the cheek of the little boy made from marble, the striking resemblance to his son always made his heart tremble even when that had been his demand to the sculpture, but for the man to catch every detail of Genim “Stiles” Stilinski-Hale’s face and fingers was something Peter could’ve never imagined possible even the cautiously hopeful smile on the little mouth was so much like the real thing had been that it was nearly as satisfying as it was heartbreaking.The little boy of marble stood there holding up something that looked like a book but on the unmoving pages was the name of the child Peter had managed to carry in his own male body just barely long enough for the child to be born healthy, and that name was carved out in that same messy scribbling that had been Stiles’ handwriting while his birthday was written down in Peter’s own handwriting with the words _Born so little but so love_ while where the date of the unfair death were the words _Always loved and never forgotten_ and bellow all of this was the handprint of the boy who’d died because of a hit-and-run on a bright summer day. 

 

`Would you rather do this in the day?´ the meth head asked huffing angrily at his comrade, but Peter paid the two men no mind as he looked at the familiar but unmoving face of his only child one of his unsteady hands cupping the hard cold cheek while the other brought the pale-blue blanket that still held the scent of his son up to his nose, inhaling the wonderful scent of his little boy who’d died while Peter was out of town trying to secure a peaceful future for his small family and pack; Stiles hadn’t died simply because of the filth that had drove his rust-bucket of a scrap-metal intohis son but also because of John’s mistakes and failures. 

 

John Stilinski had ruined everything and so had Derek.

 

The thought of his cheating mate and nephew Peter feels his claws make an appearance, his control slipping at the mere thought of his cheating ex-husband and whore of a nephew.

 

`Keep digging. ´ the messy looking man with rotten teeth hisses back at his friend, the sad excuse of a human was showing signs of withdraw even after Peter had given him a little bit of the man’s favorite poison, Peter feels no sympathy for the filth in his son’s grave not after what they had done. 

 

The sound of the spades finally making contact with something hard has a shiver run down Peter’s spine and he swiftly turns around to look down into the hole where the body of his only son had been laid down to rest, the two men look up at him with victorious smiles and Peter does smile down at the two before kneeling down at the hole in the moist ground. 

 

`Give it to me.´ Peter says voice strained as he fought to stay in control, he throws the blanket to rest over his shoulders while his hands reach down towards the item of his hearts desires, his hands eager to touch the expensive casket he’d chosen for his baby boy.

 

Peter hadn’t included John Stilinski in the planning of their son’s funeral, he’d been lucky to even be invited to their son’s funeral after Peter had learned what had driven his son to ride his bike down a road Stiles knew he wasn´t allowed to take without an adult around. 

 

`Hurry.´ Peter demands and the two men look at him like they’ve just seen something they can’t believe but eventually both shake their heads and begin to heft up the heavy coffin, grumbling and complaining all the while. 

 

`Dude it’s fucking heavy, I don’t think you can…´ the junkie with a crappy little car says but falls silent the moment he and his friend are freed from the heavy burden of the casket, Peter carries the shelter his son had been laid down in a little bit away from the hole, he can hear how both males in the ground beginning to wonder how he could just pick the heavy casket up like it weighed nothing. Peter has no difficulty breaking the lid of the casket open, he’s an Alpha he has the strength the destroy solid brick walls so the lid of a little coffin was not a challenge at all to him, the stench of death and decay hits him as soon as just an inch of the lid is raised but he ignores the smell and just rips the lid wide open. 

 

`Oh little light.´ Peter says voice weak and trembling, his son was in his little casket surrounded by his favorite toys and a couple of packages of Reese’s peanut butter cups, his son had kept well and Peter was now more than pleased with himself for spending so much of his fortune on the casket, `daddy’s here.´

 

`Hey! ´ One of the men in the ground shouted, `We could use some help here! ´

 

`Of course.´ Peter calls back to the two men before slipping his son out of the coffin and wrapping his body into the blanket he’d brought for his son. Once Stiles was safely wrapped in his blanket Peter closes the coffin and picks it up, and makes his way back to the hole in the ground.

 

`A little help here.´ the almost toothless man says, and Peter allows his eyes to bleed-red and both men go completely still, eyes wide with shock and fear. 

 

`I’ve spent days – _days_ searching for you two. ´ Peter growls claws coming out as he spoke, ` Did you know that there are still hairs of my son stuck to your car? ´ 

 

`Shit.´ the younger male curses moving around like a trapped animal, but before either male can say another thing he throws the casket down at the two males who’d killed his son, they cry out with shock and horror as the heavy casket comes at them silencing both of them as their heads come in contact with the coffin. The two males collapse under the weight of the casket Peter had bought for his son. Peter glares down at the two still breathing men who’d left _his_ son to die alone in the middle of the road. 

 

Peter grabs one of the shovels he’d brought just for this it’s easy work to cover the two men and the now battered casket with the damp soil, the gravesite looks disturbed there’s no denying that but then again no one but he seemed to visit the little boy; John’s scent was nowhere to be found and neither was Derek’s, and if that wasn’t enough to anger him further and to strengthen his resolve to keep John and Derek out of his life and plans.

 

** ~*~ **

 

Seven long days had passed since Peter Hale had his son dug out of the ground, seven days since he’d placed the lifeless body of his son in the hands of witches seeking shelter in his town and Peter had been prepared to grant them that as long as they brought his son back from the land of the dead. And on the seventh day he’s learn whether or not he would make his way to their new home with his son or he’d be suffering yet another horrible blow that might just drive him mad.

 

As the door opens he stops pacing and just stares at the women stepping out of the building, each one looking rather worn and tired, and he worries that the news will be grim but then he sees it a little boy a familiar little boy that makes every part of his wolf howl with joy they had both thought they’d lost. Stiles walks out of the house his chubby little fist in his mouth and his chubby little legs take unsteady steps while wide tearful eyes look around.

 

`Stiles? ´ Peter chokes out because it’s his son, his little boy, his little Stiles was alive although de-aged to a one-year old little boy who’s mood changed immediately as his little eyes caught on to Peter’s and the little fist drops from his little mouth and the sweetest thing Peter had ever heard falls from the little smiling mouth.

 

`Dada? ´ 

 

Peter bolts towards his little boy tears running down his cheeks as he reaches for his son, his son who is no longer dead but alive once more. The last time he’d ran towards his son with tears streaming down his cheeks were when Peter Hale returned to Beacon Hills after Derek called him with the horrible news that Stiles had been in an accident, an accident that had killed him, Peter had ran towards the lifeless body of his son laid out on a cold slab in the morgue; but now his son is alive and all smiles and waving at him with his chubby little hand while the kind-faced witch held his other only letting go once Peter was close enough to capture his son into a tight hug.

 

Peter Hale’s tears of grief and anger had been replaced with tears of pure joy, and he pepper the adorable little face of his beautiful boy with little kisses which caused the little boy shriek with delight. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

The whiskey helped him, it helped him sleep at night and forget just for a little while the things he’d lost and if not forget it did give him a comfort he could not find otherwise, however there was always a price to pay in the morning as the dark amber liquid did not only cloud his sorrow but it also made waking-up in the morning a struggle.Of course he knew his drinking wasn’t really helping him, if anything his drinking made his life just a little bit harder, but coming home to an empty house that was full of memories of a life where he’d been a father to the sweetest little boy was the most horrible form of torture. Mostnights he drankhimself to sleep on his and Peter’s bed while hugging the pillow his son could never sleep without, most nights he cried himself to sleep wailing for his son and his forgiveness.

 

Whiskey kept him sane in an insane world that allowed innocent little children to die, but it also slowed him down considerably, and each morning it seemed like it took one more extra cup of coffee to kick-start his groggy-mind. 

 

Waking-up was difficult at best, his head was throbbing and even after brushing his teeth twice there was still that horrible taste in his mouth, he’d barely taken a taste of his coffee when the phone began to ring stubbornly causing his headache to flare-up. Getting-up on shaky legs the exhausted sheriff moves to answer the damn thing that was making him feel ten-times worse, before answering he clears his throat and begs for some small mercy to save him from this horrible pain shooting about inside his cranium, and maybe he throws a prayer in hopes that whatever deity heard him to make him sound less like he was suffering from a hangover. John also wished that if it was somebody from the station there was a proper reason for the call or else he was going to have the fool calling him on desk duty for the following month.

 

`Stilinski.´ John croaks hoping if it’s Derek calling that he doesn’t sound all that bad in hopes not to worry the younger male who was just another casualty in John’s fuck-up. Peter had not only severed all ties with John but his nephew too, Derek was now without family and pack beside from John but John was no Alpha or a werewolf.

 

`Sheriff Stilinski?´ a male voice John couldn’t say he recognize asked from the other end of the line, the sound of papers rustling made him however think it was someone from the station and so he grunted out a confirming answer.

 

`Oh, good.´ the clearly younger male said which made John wonder if this was his newest Deputy calling, `Good morning, sir.´ John couldn’t say it was a good morning, mornings hadn’t been good not since the last morning he’d had with his son, Derek had made chocolate-chip pancakes that morning to cheer Stiles up because the little boy had been sad about Peter being gone, mornings were never good after that last and final morning spent with his little boy.

 

There was something far too eager about the voice on the other end of the line, something disturbingly keen that made John’s skin crawl even before the questions started. 

 

`Can you tell me Sheriff Stilinski, ´ the eager voice of the unidentified male began, `whether or not any other graves besides your sons was disturbed?’ John’s cup of coffee slips from his hand, the mug with the words World’s Greatest Dad shatters against the floor of the kitchen dark liquid spreading out burning his toes. John’s brain understands what’s being said, it does, but he just can’t believe what he’s hearing.

 

`Is it true his body is missing?´ John’s knees buckle at that, and he barely catches himself against the kitchen counter, there’s bile rising in his throat as the sleazy little man on the other end of the phone asks, `Do you think this is an attack against you sir, or is this just a case of necrophilia? ´ 

 

`W-w-what? ´ John croaks there’s a twinge in his chest grows worse and he feels close to being sick.

 

`My sources say it was your son’s grave that seems to have been disturbed, but was it the only one sir? And is it true the ´ John doesn’t drops the phone and just runs, grabbing his keys and without shoes on his feet his leaving the house without checking if the coffeemaker was turned off or whether he’d locked the front-door or even closed it.

 

John is speeding towards the direction of the graveyard without giving thought about the shape he’s in, he’s barely dressed in his uniform and he’s even left his badge at home, but all he thinks about is to prove the call as a hoax because this could not be happening, not after everything. 

 

He’s speeding with the shrieking siren cutting a path for him through the morning rush, the flashing lights blinking against windows as he drives by bystanders who probably know as much as he does about any disturbances at the graveyard. John runs one light after another nearly causing an accident or two, as he drives he begs for the call to be just a hoax by some cruel little pimple-faced idiot he’d arrested for street-racing or some rich spoiled brat who hadn’t appreciated getting a speeding ticket.He is begging the same unmerciful God that had stolen his son even after John begged for him not too, to prove his mercy by making the call just a cruel joke played on a grieving man but as soon as John sees the familiar set of flashing lights, he’s barely able to park the cruiser before rushing out and through the gates masses of curious people and the gates of the graveyard while ignoring the shouts of people demanding for comments or for him to stay back. 

 

John hadn’t been to the graveyard since the funeral during which although he and Derek had been there beside Peter the Alpha hadn’t allowed either one to comfort him, to touch him even though everyone could see he could barely sit without crumbling to the ground, John still had nightmares of how broken Peter had been that day wailing uncontrollably as the coffin was lowered into the ground; Peter’s screams of pure agony still rang in John’s ears when everything else was quiet, when Peter had seen their son dead and cold the Alpha had screamed like he was being burned alive or torn to pieces, John would never forget the way Peter had shattered right there and then as he was faced with their now dead son.

 

Not since the funeral had John been there at the graveyard, been at his grave of his and Peter’s only child, he hadn’t even been there for the arrival of the headstone John hadn’t been part of choosing; Peter had cut him out of everything going as far as buying several plots around Stiles grave in order to ensure no one not even John could be laid to rest there, no one but Peter that is. 

 

John was ashamed to admit that without those familiar people who worked beside him and with him as well as the crime scene tape, without the familiar van that carried away the dead bodies that needed to be examined or identified John might’ve walked down a wrong path and so on.When John does find the site where his little boy had been laid to rest surrounded by friends and what little family the Stilinski-Hale’s had, he feels his stomach churn as he sees the familiar but now battered little casket that had held the body of his and Peter’s baby boy, he’d never expected to see it ever again after it had been lowered into the ground while Peter had wailed uncontrollably. 

 

Not only had the still expensive looking box been dragged out of the ground but there were two bodies being hauled into the van, the masses inside the black bags told John that neither one held his son, his little boy had been so small and light. The coffin was dented and it made him think the worst. 

 

`Sheriff!´ someone shouts as John stumbles towards what should still hold his son, he pushes past the Deputy in his way but the younger male grabs him firmly, `Chief you can’t be here.´ the familiar voice of Parrish says from behind him and John just screams eyes glued on the box that held or had held his son.

 

`That’s my son, that’s my son.´ John screams repeatedly his panic growing as the words of the person who’d called him begin to play around inside his head. 

 

`I know, and I’m sorry chief but I can’t let you.´Parrish tells him while sounding genuinely apologetic but John doesn’t care as he continues to fight the hold of the younger male while screaming bloody murder and threatening to fire his deputy, but Parrish has never been one to back down from him, John doesn’t stop his yelling not until the chief coroner Astoria Greenberg appears before him; Astoria had been the one who’d attended to his Stiles’ body, cataloging injuries and the cause of death, collecting evidence that hadn’t provided any suspects says the horrible words of, `I’m sorry John, I’m so sorry but he’s gone. Someone took him.´

 

** ~*~ **

 

The sun is high above the trees by the time John is in any fit state to take the drive to Peter’s new dwellings, every and it seemed their mother had offered to deliver the dreadful news to Peter, an offer a coward most likely would’ve taken gladly and one which even Derek might’ve advised him to take if he’d been aware of the atrocious situation they were now in, but John felt that he as Stiles father and as the towns Sheriff should be the one to deliver the horrible news to the man that had risked his own-life so that he and John could have a child of their own blood. 

 

John dreads giving Peter the resent news involving their little boy, John’s still got the scars from the evening when Peter learned why their baby had been out on the road alone, but be however fearful for his own life and whatever fury Peter might rain down on Beacon Hills John knows he needs to do this before the leeches came and feasted on Peter’s grief once more spewing out the same vile question about the grave that had been dug-up and the body that had been taken, John has to be the one to tell sickening news because if Peter lost control the only victim of it would be John himself. 

 

Driving up the narrow road towards the lake house John weighs his words carefully in his mind, trying to soften the blow somehow with the use of words, but can there really ever be any form of wording to ease the suffering of an already broken heart when all news you bring is bad? 

 

The Hale’s Lake House appeared through the trees which had grown fewer as more than a few had been cut down and as the house appears so does Peter’s family-friendly and somewhat modified Volvo, the sight of the dark colored vehicle had John brought back memories of the very day when he’d learned about Peter being with child, it had been on one of those rare and far-between days when John had a day off from work he and Derek were working in the yard when the brand new and for the time being an unfamiliar Volvo came driving up into their driveway,and admittedly both John’s and Derek’s jaws had dropped when none other than their Peter slipped out of the not so flashy car; it had not only been seeing Peter getting out of the car that had been such a strange thing but also the fact that Peter got out of the car wearing a smile, Peter had been smiling and unbuttoning the fine and expensive shirt he was wearing slowly revealing a grainy black and gray image with the words written in Peter’s own neat handwriting in bright red We’re Having A BABY!

 

The memory of that joyful day was now almost completely over-run with grief and pain while once it had brought a smile to John’s lips, now all it did was cause tears to fall. 

 

Slipping out of his own car John checks himself quickly to make sure he doesn’t look as ruined as he feels,he’s got a pair of boots John always kept in his cruiser incase he had to track through the wilderness or soaking wet grounds it was the same pair Peter had bought him no less. Taking a deep breath John heads to the wooden stairs leading down to the deck that surrounded the house that stood on the calmwatered lake where generations of Hale’s had spent their summer at. The house looked like it could float away with the next breeze however it remained ever firm in place never swaying unlike John who’d never liked the lake house where Peter had hid away when the pregnancy began to show,and frankly since Peter had left to stay there on the very evening when the horrible details of why their son had gone out onto the horrible stretch of road John’s loathing of the lake house increased; John hated being so completely severed from Peter even before the werewolf cut him out of the whole funeral of their son only allowed to show-up, and whenever John had attempted to communicate with the man he’d built a life with all Peter ever said to him was, `Find the _other_ half of the bastards that killed _my_ son Sheriff and then _maybe_ we can talk.´ 

 

Walking towards the front-door of the house that was a mixture of shingles and windows joined with large wooden beams and pieces of driftwood, John can’t help but wonder how Peter had settled out there amongst the trees that made the idea of the internet a distant memory,and it had been this idea that Peter would not survive without his daily dose of checking his emails and the odd little sights he’d visited on a daily basis that had given John and Derek hope that Peter would come home but as days turned into weeks and weeks into the first of many months they realized Peter wasn’t coming back. 

 

John sighs with a heavy heart as he knocks on the mint-green door. John waits a few heartbeats before knocking again, the wind chime playing its almost hopeful, playful little song. As he waits John’s sense of dread began to grow not only because he was worrying over how Peter would react to the news that some lowlife or two had decided violate their little ones grave and that now his little body was missing, but what began to increase his worries was the whispers he recalled hearing around town about how no one had seen Peter in weeks. 

 

With sweaty palms John reaches for the door handle trying it out and finding the door unlocked which does nothing to ease John’s nerves, pushing the door open his heart begins to beat just a little bit faster as he imagines the worse such as finding Peter dead with a whole in his head or dangling from the rafters, wide-eyed and sunken in the bathtub upstairs even if both John and Derek would’ve been alerted to Peter’s death by the Alpha power passing down to Derek, but John still fears finding the werewolf either dead or dying after all Peter had said he’d rather be dead than alive and without his baby. 

 

Too afraid to call out for the man he’d married with a proud and younger heart John moves slowly over the threshold.

 

John’s about to callout for the missing Alpha when something at the stairs catches his attention.

 

Slowly descending the stairs was a toddler half-naked wearing nothing but a diaper, the diaper-clad bottom slipped down one stair at a time the same way his son had done in the begin of his exploration of stairs; Stiles had been a clever and curious little boy who to Peter’s great joy had a hunger to learn and explore, almost as soon as Stiles had learned to walk the toddler was everywhere going as far as escaping his crib. 

 

The little toddler was covering his little mouth with his chubby little hand in an attempt to stifle his little giggles, and when John sees the little face of the toddler who was covered in pale skin dotted with a couple of dark moles here and there the Sheriff feels his world shift, he feels absolutely dizzy as he’s suddenly faced with a carbon-copy version of his son; this toddler has the same moles, chocolate brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, and that little upturn of a nose that came from John’s mother. 

 

This toddler who is shakily rising up on his tiny little feet with tiny little toes, chubby little legs shaking a little as the child tries to steady himself where he stands, this toddler who takes off little body wiggling as he takes his first running steps is his son and John knows it from the bottom of his broken heart to the frayed edges of his sorrowful soul. 

 

John runs after his baby boy dropping to his knees hard so hard that John knows he’ll have trouble with his knees for the rest of the week, regardless of the pain in his knees John scoops the little boy up into his arms and just holds his baby boy as close as possible fearful that this was just a fragment of his imagination.John feels his heart break and heal at the same time as he holds the little body close, a little body that fights his hold while whining out pitifully, `No. No bath Dada. No bath, I clean.´ 

 

Stiles moves to show his little chubby hands with short little fingers to John who can with an honest heart say that those little fingers and hands were anything but clean, there was glue and glitter there, but the state of the hands really didn’t matter because his son was there and not dead and in the hands of some disturbed individual. John kisses the soft chubby little cheeks when the little face turns up to look at him, a look of joyful recognition appears on the sweet little face, a bright little smile appears on the round little face as Stiles says cheerfully, `You home papa.´ 

 

John can’t help the way his heart shatters into a million little pieces at those words. 

 

His son, his little boy wiggles and turns in his arms before wrapping his chubby little arms around John’s neck, hugging him gently while sinking against him the way Stiles had always done, and John might just cry a little bit harder because his son was there alive and breathing, years younger than on the day he’d died but none the less real.

 

`I miss you papa.´ Stiles says earnestly and John might just hold his son a little bit tighter, `you gone long time papa.´

 

`I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.´ John cries against his son, and he means it in every possible way because he’s the reason Stiles had died and why everything had gone so horribly wrong, `Oh God I’m so sorry baby.´

 

`It okay papa, ´ his son says little hands petting him where those short little arms could reach, `you home now.´ 

 


End file.
